


negative reinforcement

by cryptidlibrarian



Series: Wayhaven Week 2020 [4]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Other, Prompt Fic, wayhaven week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidlibrarian/pseuds/cryptidlibrarian
Summary: Mistakes are made. Adam changes his shirt.Written for Wayhaven Week, for the Day 5 prompt "Guilt/Forgiveness".
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain
Series: Wayhaven Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829665
Kudos: 16





	negative reinforcement

She hadn’t thought.

This wasn’t exactly unusual, Rabbit had a long and colourful history of Not Thinking before moving to action. Her instincts saw her right enough that it had helped her career, helped her keep Wayhaven safe. But it also leads, now and then, to stupid mistakes.

Mistakes that spill over onto those she loves.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts, eyes wide as she stares at Adam. And then she bites her lip, trying desperately not to laugh.

Adam, dripping wet, a clear line of water from the sink hose nozzle soaking into his shirt and down his torso, stares at her in disbelief. There’s a puddle on the floor, the rest of the arcing spray that she’d directed at him, right in the middle of their conversation.

“...that was uncalled for.”

The urge to laugh is even harder to suppress, because this is a very particular kind of Affronted Adam which Rabbit is now privy to, and it’s  _ very _ funny. She raises her hands, mouth opening to speak. She stops immediately when Adam’s eyes narrow at the hose  _ still in  _ those hands.  _ Right _ .

Rabbit turns, and shoves the coiled metal back into the sink, letting it pool among the dishes, and spins to face Adam again. “ _ Actually _ ,” she starts. She doesn’t stop when Adam’s lips thin. “I think I  _ did _ warn you.”

“I beg your pardon?” A true Agent du Mortain frown is developing on his brow, and Rabbit’s smile stretches a little too wide, too close to a grin for polite apology and discussion.

“I told you I’d get a water bottle. And spray you. If you didn’t stop being- well.” She’s absolutely grinning now, and her eyes are distracted as they track down the now very damp front of his shirt. “Infuriating,” she adds, after a moment.

Adam closes his eyes, and his hands clench at his sides, before raising to run over the top of his head, a steady breath let out as he musters the strength to deal with the impossible person in front of him.

“Here-” Suddenly she’s closer, and his eyes fly open as she touches at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing over the honestly far too thin layer of fabric. Thin enough he can feel the warmth of her fingers, warm from the hot water of the sink. And she’s grinning up at him, head tilted in that impossibly enchanting way. “Lemme make it up to you.”

Adam doesn’t trust himself to respond.

“I’ll pop it in the washer. Drop it by your room later. How’s that?”

He clears his throat, lips pursing as he makes sure, before he speaks, that there won’t be any hint of an untoward tone. “...acceptable.”

He wasn’t anticipating the tug, her fingers picking at the suddenly chilly fabric. The tilt of her smile and eyes are now near fae in their mischief. “C’mon, then. Can’t wash it with you in it.”

She’ll be the death of him. He knows that well enough, without fortune tellers to rub it in. And there’s absolutely nothing he can do to refuse her fancies right now. So he grabs his shirt and tugs it off, the wet fabric leaving his chest damp. And now, of course, he’s standing shirtless in front of Rabbit and she’s- she’s not even looking at him. She’s peering at the shirt, apparently checking the tag.

“This isn’t dry clean, is it?” she asks.

“...it’s a t-shirt,” he replies. “It requires no particular special care.”

“Oh, alright.” She balls it up, and gives him a smile like sunshine erupting in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “But I don’t like you talking like that.”

Adam frowns. For a moment, the whole ridiculousness of her response managed to eclipse the original conversation. His eyes flick back to the barely visible scars on her neck- hard for anyone to pick out, with the skill of the healers who had tended to her and the constellations of freckles that surround and distract from the once-torn flesh.

“You’re not responsible for his actions,” Rabbit murmurs, voice softening. “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t mine, and it was harm done to me.” Her smile is lopsided, jarring with her words. “It’s my trauma to wrestle with, if anyone does.”

Adam’s eyes move away. They don’t even flicker back when he feels her touch at his wrist, achingly light, soft and now dry.

“I don’t want us to be caught forever on what-could-have-beens, Adam.”

He steps away, her touch a burning trail over his hand before he’s pulled enough away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his tone is stiff. “I won’t bring it up again.” A pause. “Return my shirt whenever suits you best.”

Rabbit watches him go. She doesn’t let out a sigh until he’s out of sight. He can probably hear it anyway. Damn vampiric senses. She looks down at the balled up shirt in her hands, and even though it’s wet, she raises it to bury her face against it. It’s nowhere near a replacement for what she wants to do instead. But it will be a long time before Adam’s comfortable with letting her hug him as she pleases. ...if he ever is.

She sighs and her hands drop, shirt still clutched in them. Her forehead’s wet now. Along with the front of her shirt, from the splashes of the sink, and her brandishing the hose. She smiles, lopsided again, laughs, and heads for the door. The dishes can wait. She has laundry to do, now.


End file.
